


Luiza, Alone

by IShipThem



Category: Sister Claire (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipThem/pseuds/IShipThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A What-If fic, post the fall of Thronum Mare. Author has no fucking idea what actually happened during the fall, so author made it Really Fucking Vague and just went for it. </p><p>Luiza's left alone in the aftermath of the fall. But she's a brave young girl; she's not giving up just like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luiza, Alone

**Author's Note:**

> TW for child abandonment (?), just to be on the safe side.

Luiza is a brave young girl.

She tells herself that, crouching in the janitor’s closet, her backpack squished between her belly and her knees as she curls into a ball. She’s brave. She’s courageous. She’s the daughter of Thronum Mare’s best swordsman. 

She’s terrified. But that’s evident; you can’t be brave at all unless you’re scared.

Forcing her own breathing to quiet down, Luiza struggles to listen for danger. Her building is never silent anymore. Not really. She can always hear banging and distant moaning and voices whispering. But that’s old news by now. There’s no imminent danger.

Still, she takes a moment to survey the contents of her backpack one last time. Enough food to last her a few days. First-aid kit. Extra socks. And a small sample of her treasures.

The flower the Bright One gave Luiza when she was little, years past and still not wilted. A family portrait with Dad, Papa, Grandmère and Grandpère. Lia’s friendship bracelet. A gleaming amber hairclip Auntie Marianne brought from across the sea. And Vovó Luiza’s favorite silver spoon.

Back at home, Luiza has a jewel box filled with similar treasures. She has a whole armoire just for her crafts supplies; cloth and line and straw and paint. She has a drawer filled with friendship trinkets. Her fencing uniform, practice sword, polishing oil, are all nearly stocked in the kitchen closet. And in the cabinets, Luiza left behind the lovely set of teacups, with its dainty gold leaves, that Auntie Sylvia got for her birthday last year.

All things that hurt her to abandon. But not as much as it had hurt to walk out of her apartment, into the empty hallway, all by herself.

Luiza is a brave young girl. She’s also, she knows, a smart one. If Dad and Papa haven’t come for her by now, then something must’ve happened to them. And no one else had come. No Aunt or Uncle. No Guard wearing the uniform that Luiza knew since she was born. No one at all.

She knows something is wrong, though she can’t tell exactly what.

The food at home is running low, and the days are getting colder. Though Luiza could probably wait it out longer, she chooses not to. If Dad or Papa come looking for her, she left notes, all around the house. And if they don’t, she doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

Careful, Luiza gets back to her feet. Hungs the backpack on her shoulders, and grasps the hilt of her sword. The real one, that she isn’t —  _ wasn’t —  _ allowed to carry outside class. She thinks Aunties Josie and Annie will forgive her that one.

Thinking of them is a mistake, because it reminds Luiza of Yasahiro. Hiro’s not actually her cousin — he’s Auntie Josie’s nephew — but they were born but months apart, and have slept over at their Aunties’ house too many times to count _. _ Should she look for him?

But she has so many other cousins. Her Papa’s family is huge, and whoever’s still around is for sure going to be at the Temple. That she  _ does _ know. Hiro could be anywhere at all in the whole city.

She’ll go to the Temple first.

Clinging to that decision, Luiza turns the doorknob and silently peeks into the hallway beyond. She sees nothing move.

Making sure to keep one hand on her sword at all times, Luiza leaves her building and steps into the street.

 

* * *

 

There’s no one at the Temple.

Luiza can tell even from this distance, as she watches the whole building go up in flames from the balcony of a nearby house. No one’s there. No one must’ve  _ been _ there for a while, and the candles she’s helped lit more times than she can count must’ve rebelled without supervision. The flames crackle and shine in the night air. A cloud of black smoke spirals up into the sky, getting lost in the distance.

Watching it, Luiza feels so cold her own bones seem made of ice. The Temple was her home. The Temple was the home of her aunts and uncles and cousins and best friends. How many times had Lia been waiting for her at the entrance? How many hours has Luiza spent next to her Papa, praying inside its old walls?

No one is there anymore.

Luiza wonders if she’s gonna cry, but there are no tears inside of her. Her knees are scraped. Her fencing hand has a nasty cut to it. And she doesn’t cry.

She climbs down the stairs and gains the streets again, heading for her Aunties’ house.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t make it to Auntie Josie’s and Annie’s. Not even halfway there, she’s forced to backtrack, then hide out for a couple days, and by then she’s rethinking her line of action.

Even if she gets to her Aunties’ house, Luiza’s realizing that they won’t be there. Auntie Joséphine is  _ Captain  _ Joséphine, and Auntie Marianne had been meant to take over her position in a few more years. They wouldn’t be sitting at home while the city falls apart around them. 

They wouldn’t be sitting at home while Luiza’s alone out there somewhere.

So that leaves her two options.

One: the Palace. The Royal Guard. It would be her best bet if she was looking for her Aunties. Pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, Luiza glances outside the window wearily. She hasn’t talked to or seen anyone in  _ weeks _ . The Palace does seem inviting right now. 

Auntie Sylvia would be at the Palace, and the little Princesses. Maybe even Dad, if he got stuck there and for some reason couldn’t come to fetch her. Home’s empty; the Temple’s gone; her Aunties won’t be at home. Maybe the Palace  _ is _ her best bet.

But…

There’s also Option Two: Auntie Wyst’s house.

Luiza knows  _ exactly _ how to get there, and Auntie Wyst is a  _ Witch _ and a  _ healer _ . What better place to go to then to a Witch's? Specially if that Witch is Auntie Wyst, that knows so much about so many things and has always made Luiza feel safe. Auntie Wyst would know what to do.

Besides, the Red Ring is closer than the Palace, and she doesn’t want to be in the streets anymore than she needs to.

A sparkle of hope kindles in Luiza’s chest. Yes. Yes, she’s going to Auntie Wyst’s next.

 

* * *

 

Aunt Wyst’s house is where Luiza finally breaks down.

She’s not there, though most of her things are. Luiza sees the kitchen cabinets all hanging open, the little pots missing from the windows, the earth and leaves and seeds scattered all around the living room. Her aunt left in a hurry, probably hoping she could do something about — about whatever it is that’s happening.

Luiza can’t tell how long exactly she’s been gone. Still, she kneels down and touches one of the leaves left on the floor. It crumbles under her fingers. It’s very dry.

She goes into the kitchen. Her eyes fall on the biscuit tin Auntie Wyst always leaves by the table, round and covered in waxed paper. It’s pink with tiny white stars. Luiza never liked it overmuch; she’s never been a fan of pink.

She opens it anyhow, and the lid comes free with a satisfying  _ pop _ . The biscuits inside are ones she recognizes.  _ Honeysuckle, _ she remembers.  _ It will fill your heart with light and joy. _

Luiza’s sinks to the floor. She hugs the tin to her chest, scoots under the table until her back hits its leg. It’s only then that her tears come.

They’re quiet, though they never used to be. Luiza stays like that for what feels like hours, cradling the biscuit tin, wetting the ripped fabric of her pants. She has nowhere else to go. If not Papa’s family, if not Dad’s family, if not Auntie Wyst— maybe she could go to her school. Nib or Sister Geneviève could be there. 

But her school is in the Indigo Ring. God, that’s nearly all the way to the Palace.

And Luiza doesn’t know anyone else in the Red Ring, does she…?

A last tug of hope hooks into her. Oh. Oh, Luiza  _ does _ know someone in the Red Ring. She thinks she can even remember how to get there from Auntie Wyst’s. They usually went together.

Rubbing her arm against her face, Luiza crawls from underneath the table and gets up. She could wait up a bit; take a nap, eat, recharge before being on her way. It would be the wisest thing to do.

But Luiza doesn’t do that.

 

* * *

 

She gets lost thrice in the way, and turning a wrong corner means she has to  _ run. _ When Oscar’s house finally comes into view, Luiza’s dashing as inhumanly fast as her legs can possibly carry her, sword arm aching like it’s catching fire. It’s not the way she remembers it. It’s wearier and sadder, but what  _ isn’t _ ever since this nightmare began?

Her pursuers are gaining on her. Luiza’s lungs are screaming, but she puts on a burst of speed anyway, backpack bouncing wildly. She can see the front gate. The garden. The door! If she can just— 

She hits the barrier so hard it catapults her back. Luiza skids several feet, trashing madly to avoid impaling herself. Her heart is gonna beat itself to burst.

Panicking, she throws herself forward again. Pounds the barrier so hard her hands get bloody. “OSCAR! CATHARINE!” she screams, pounding and pounding and pounding. “OSCAR! CATHARINE! IT’S ME, IT’S LUIZA!  _ OSCAR!  _ LET ME IN! _ ” _

Her instinct screams, a sudden burning at the back of her neck. Luiza whirls around, raising her sword again, brain a bright white flash of fear—

—and goes through the barrier, falling on her butt.

Her pursuers have no such luck; they stay locked out, safely kept away by whatever magic’s at work, only inches away from Luiza’s feet. Terrified, she scrambles back. And hits something warm.

Trashing, Luiza tries to swing her sword again. “ _ Careful!”  _ someone exclaims, and the sound of another voice is enough to make her freeze on the spot.

A face. A face she  _ knows.  _ Luiza blinks, again and again and again, trying to place it. The person leans forward. “Dear heart,” she says, her voice soft, and familiar, and gentle. “How on Earth did you get here?”

“Ma—” Luiza’s lips are trembling so much it’s hard to get the word out. She gulps and tries again: “Ma— Ma— Maman?”

Maman — Oscar’s and Catharine’s mother — nods, slow like Luiza is a skittish street kitten. Luiza  _ remembers  _ her. Of course. They’d seen each other— how long ago? She can’t tell for sure, but she remembers it clear as day. They’d babysat the little Princesses together, Marie and Rosie, and walked in the gardens with them, and Maman had explained to her about loving more than one people at once in different ways. Yes. Luiza  _ knows _ her.

The tears come again, and this time they’re not silent at all.

She starts bawling, and Maman rushes forward and catches her in her arms like Luiza’s not even heavy at all. She buries her face in Maman’s neck. It’s been a while now only her Dad has managed to pick her up this way.

Luiza’s a brave young girl.

But if that’s okay, for a little while now, she doesn’t really want to be brave.


End file.
